


Across My Memory

by CometEclipse



Series: Thedas's Fairy Tales [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Anastasia Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6383878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CometEclipse/pseuds/CometEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anya and Alex had always been together, as long as she could remember. When they were orphaned, the siblings were taken in by a family of carpenters. Together they grew up, leading quiet and simple lives. When Cullen Rutherford and his mercenary band clash with Anya, all that changes. Cullen has been hired to escort Teryn Nicholas's last living grandchild safely from Ostawick to Highever. Long ago, the Teryn's first born son and his family were all killed, and the assassination attempts to murder the last Trevelyan hounded them at every step.  Anya is reluctant to let her brother place himself in danger, but agrees to help escort the group; she going one way and Alex the other. Cullen infuriates her to no end, though she enjoys outmaneuvering him, giving her days something to look forward to. If only she could stop seeing the faces of people she didn't know in her nightmares, the lurching fear and sadness they inspired. Like memories from a dream...</p>
<p>A world of Thedas retelling of Anastasia!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Diamond in the Rough is the winner of my contest, so that is the story I will be continuing! So this story is on a temporary Hiatus... probably... mostly... maybe. Okay, really only sort of. I can't resist also working on this one at the same time.
> 
> Anya Art by Cocotingo! Check her out on [ tumblr! ](http://cocotingo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [](http://s25.photobucket.com/user/Cometeclipse/media/tumblr_inline_o4qyfvq0Ev1syd84x_500.png.html)  
> 

There was a low rumbling echoing down the road, and Cullen tensed. Around him, his mercenary company snapped their heads to look down the wooded lane, but the bends and dense fauna along the sides made it impossible to see who was coming. With all the attacks they had been fending off since landing in Ferelden, Cullen knew there was a possibility this signaled another one. Maker curse it. They needed to get to Highever, and all these assassination attempts were not helping. 

With a silent signal, they made their way down the packed dirt a ways from where their recent fight had taken place. Horses were led off into the trees, out of eyesight. With another rehearsed signal, one of his company mages placed a holding spell on the ground; friend or foe, it was best to keep them immobilized until they could work it out. With the ease of practice, they melted back into the underbrush and took up position around the trap. 

Cullen made sure that the one he had been hired to escort was safely concealed, well back from visibility. He looked back, gritting his teeth at the sprawl of bodies down the road. They wore rough labor’s clothing, had disguised themselves as peasants. Unfortunately for them, Cullen led a well-trained group. It helped that the one they were trying to kill was a powerful mage in their own right, annoyed to be always wrapped up in a heavy robe and kept back from the fighting.

Something needed to change, though, he knew. There was no way they were going to make it to the Teryn’s estate in time if they continued at their pace. They were traveling cautiously, with good reason, but even these more circuitous and less traveled routes were being watched.

As the rumbling grew louder, Cullen heard another noise. Singing, he realized. A ploy used to appear harmless, or just an innocent traveler? He trained his eyes on the curve, weighing his options. He made no move to break from the cover, made no move to have the spell dissipated. They would wait.

Then the person appeared, a woman. She seemed innocuous enough, casually leading an old donkey attached to a large cart. She was dressed similarly as the assassins they had just dispatched, but despite the sensible, unaffected quality of her clothing, she was much cleaner and put together than that sorry lot. Perhaps a farmer or worker in a village not too far away. She didn’t seem to be very alert, her singing halfhearted and inattentive. An act or just a woman tired after a long day? Her cart offered no answers either. The sides were high, the contents covered with a tarp. It would be perfectly easy to hide half a dozen men in there, covered until they were ready to spring from their ambush.

Cullen shook his head at his men, letting them know they were going to wait to see what happened when she triggered the spell. Far better safe than sorry.

She came up to the edge of the spell and stepped right into the trap. Instantly the spell flared to life, purple flaring into a solid circle around her and her donkey. She shrieked, throwing her arms up and dropping into a crouch, her fingers clutched tightly around the reins. Her donkey bayed, kicked up a fuss, then settled back down almost immediately when he found he wasn’t being hurt.

Cullen’s men leapt from their hiding places, surrounding the unknown entity. Cullen himself ran for the cart, jerking the tarp concealing what lay beneath. To reveal… logs. He blinked, making sure that there was nothing else in there. His first assessment had been correct. The wagon was filled with logs of varying sizes and thicknesses. Different species of trees were represented, but there was nothing sinister about them. Not unless they were to start moving on their own.

He strode quickly to where the woman was now looking around, her eyes wide in surprise and fright. So she was not smuggling more people with her; it did not mean she was not an assassin. He made sure that his charge remained hidden, still protected by his men. This woman could be serving as a distraction for someone else to slip close unawares.

“Drop the barrier,” Cullen commanded, knowing that there were weapons trained on the woman if she made any move to attack. Down the road, the horses were led back out, preparations in case they needed to make a quick departure.

The magic dropped away, the donkey flicking his ears but otherwise uninterested. The woman, however, jerked her head around to stare at him and stood, her fear giving way to anger now, sparks flying from her blue-green eyes. “What do you want? I wasn’t doing anything! I don’t have money either.” Cullen ignored her questions for the time being, instead focusing on checking her for weapons. A belt hung low on her hips, a small knife in a holster.

Cullen swiftly pulled it out and examined it. The pommel was battered, the blade well maintained but not the razor sharp as he would expect an assassins to be. “Hey, wait!” The woman protested, “That’s mine!” Cullen passed the knife to one of his men, then patted her down. “Wha- Just what do you think you are doing?” She shouted indignantly, shoving at his hands, but Cullen continued anyways. Her jerkin contained no pockets, the belt only a few odds and ends. Her pants were like-wise as empty, her boots hiding no other blades.

Satisfied, Cullen called out, “She’s unarmed.” There was a general easing of tension, and Cullen noted that a small bag that had been sitting at the front of the cart had been emptied. Only food was displayed, some clothing. A saw and hatchet were also pulled from the cart, painting a picture of an innocent who had been collecting wood.

His charge emerged from the forest, staying hidden beneath a heavy and deeply cowled cloak. Next to them, their companion and fiancé was similarly dressed, also holding their staff at the ready.

“Of course I am unarmed!” The woman huffed, roughly brushing her sweeping bangs to the side. Cullen finally turned his attention to her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We are sorry for this,” he said in polite but curt tones. “But it was necessary,” he spoke the truth before lying. “We were just attacked by bandits.”

“Bandits,” she breathed, her anger fading from her strong features to be replaced by fear again. The woman looked down the road, and for the first time saw the bodies of the seven men lying there. Her eyes snapped to where the road continued in the trees, and her face paled. “Alex!”

She made to run down the path and Cullen grabbed hold of her arms, keeping her in place. “No!” She jerked against him, her strength fueled by panic and Cullen readjusted his hold on her. She was surprisingly strong for a common woman, but she was not a warrior. Her hands flew out, knocking against his arms and chest. “No! You don’t understand! Alex is down there! My home!”

Cullen looked back to the robed figures. The shorter one shrugged, leaving the decision up to him. Cullen nodded, deciding to try a new tactic. “Hold, woman!” He spun the madly struggling female, forcing her to face him. “Calm!”

A fist flashed out, aimed for his jaw. “Bastard!” She shrieked. Cullen grunted and reared back, her technique non-existent and easy enough to dodge.

A low chuckle rolled around from his group. “Feisty, isn’t she?” Adaar, his lone qunari recruit, nodded his head in approval, casually twirling the woman’s shabby hatchet. Cullen just shot him a look, turning back to his captive.

Cullen narrowed his eyes and studied her. She looked truly terrified, almost hyperventilating with her fear and need to get to this Alex. Her wide eyes were shadowed and wild, her shoulder length auburn hair a mess from her thrashing.

Cullen frowned, looking at the bodies lying in the road. Thugs such as they may have easily looted a house, killed whoever they found. He grimly shook his head. And it would be his responsibility if they had.

“We will take you.” Cullen fired off, the woman finally stilling to stare up at him. Cullen turned and commanded, “Horses. Mount up.” Instantly reins were pressed into his hand. He barked out orders, leaving two men to bring her cart along, knowing the lazy donkey would not keep up with them.

“Now!” Resolve filled the woman’s face, and she resolutely accepted his help to clumsily mount behind him. She gripped his waist tightly; impatient as Cullen made sure everyone was ready. She was obviously unused to being on a horse, but it didn’t seem to faze her. When the two robed figures were mounted and surrounded with protection, Cullen gave the signal and they took off.

Within ten minutes, a little cottage nestled back slightly from the road appeared in a small clearing. A small vegetable garden grew in an open patch next to the house, and all around the remaining clearing were different pieces of roughhewn furniture, all in varying stages of completeness. A carpenter, Cullen surmised. It would explain the size and length of the logs in her cart. They had been longer than what was generally needed for firewood, harder to transport as well. The different types would all have different colors of wood, something a carpenter would like.

The woman scrambled down from behind him before he had pulled to a stop and dashed across to the door. Cullen jumped from his horse’s back and stayed right at her back as she fumbled with the handle.

“Alex!” She cried out, clumsily rushing inside.

“Anya?” Across the small room, a young man started in surprise, confusion on his face as he turned around from a table he had been leaning over. Cullen noted that there was a stark familial resemblance to the woman who now sagged against an ornately carved chair. They had the same cheekbones, the same eyes. They both had strong jawlines, high arching brows, although his were thicker, and similar noses. Proud features, Cullen decided, a bit out of place in back-country Ferelden.

The sharpest difference was what caught his attention though. Where the woman’s hair was a deep auburn, the man had a long braid of red-gold pulled over his shoulder. And it was the exact same color as…

Behind him he heard a little gasp, and Cullen knew that his charge had come up behind him and seen the similarity as well.

The woman regained her feet, and darted across the room, grabbing onto the biceps of the man who must be her brother. “Oh, thank the Maker,” she sighed. Still looking puzzled, Alex awkwardly patted her shoulder with one hand, the other placing the small carving knife carefully away. His eyes bounced between Cullen and the heavily robed figures behind him and finally spoke.

“Anya, what’s going on? Who are these people?”

Abruptly the woman, her name apparently Anya, pulled away from her brother and turned around. She pursed her lips, her eyes clear of tears. Cullen noted it with a bit of surprise. He would have thought she would be crying at seeing her brother safe. Instead she jerked her stubborn chin up, glaring at him.

“They accosted me on the road.” Her mouth twisted and eyes narrowed. “I suppose I should thank you for bringing me here,” she said, grudgingly. Cullen noted that she didn’t actually say thank you, but he graciously bypassed it.

“I’m John Bellows,” He bowed slightly, then jerked his chin to acknowledge all the people behind him. “And these are my companions. We were traveling to Ostler to visit my sister; she works at the inn there. Perhaps you know her?” Cullen queried casually. Usually people jumped to the own conclusions, supplying someone all on their own.

Anya crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. “That is the biggest pile of fermenting nug shit I have ever heard.”

“Anya!” Her brother whispered lowly, disbelief and caution on his face as he looked at the sword strapped to Cullen’s hip. Cullen raised his brows at the woman’s disdain. It was obvious which of the two was the more prudent one.

“First of all, your ‘companions’ look more like a mercenary band,” Anya ignored her brother, continuing headlong into her rant. “Who ever heard of normal traveling companions of around sixteen trained fighters, with a qunari to boot? And I suppose that the staffs being carried around,” She nodded to where the two mages behind him gripped their weapons, “are just walking sticks, right?” Sarcasm lay heavy on her tongue. Cullen was impressed that she had guessed them correctly instantly.

There was choked laughter from the taller robed figure in the doorway, but Anya barreled on. “Second of all, the inn at Ostler burned to the ground, along with half the village, four months ago. So unless your ‘sister’,” Anya rolled her eyes, “really doesn’t want to talk to you, you are pulling another lie straight out your ass.”

Cullen was duly impressed with Anya’s repertoire of scorn, but her news was not good for him. Maker curse it. Ostler had been only area he knew around here large enough to replenish supplies without sticking out like a sore thumb. Not that his group was trying to be all that secretive, it was just easier to protect someone when you weren’t trumpeting around exactly where you were. Of course the precautions hadn’t helped that much so far. 

Double blast it, Cullen almost groaned with frustration. Teryn Nicholas had hired him and his crew years ago to provide protection for him and his estate. Cullen knew he should never have agreed to do this task, just stayed put.

A tinkling, melodic laugh came from his troublesome charge, filling the cabin. The shorter figure walked past him, and lowered her hood.

Cullen dropped his head back and sighed deeply. “Marie…” He groaned, rubbing his eyes. See, troublesome. “There is a reason you are wearing that cloak.” Precisely to hide her identity.

Anya and Alex were blinking at the revealed woman with surprise. She was a beautiful young lady, Cullen knew, her features delicate and charming. Her bright green eyes were complimented by her flawless skin and rosebud mouth. And her hair, red-gold, hung over her shoulder in a braid the exact same color as Alex’s.

Dimples rose in Marie’s cheeks as she offered out her hand to the startled Anya. “I think it is time we told the truth. My name is Marie Trevelyan, and I am very pleased to meet you Anya, Alex.”

Anya blinked and took Marie’s hand in an unsure grip, shaking her hand slightly before pulling away. She kept staring at Marie’s hair, and Cullen couldn’t blame her. Although Marie’s and Alex’s features were very different from each other, their bright, distinctive hair was practically identical. In fact, a slow churning of thoughts rolled through Cullen, from far away, dressed in form-obscuring clothing, it would be impossible to tell which of the two you were looking at.

“The scowling handsome man behind me is Cullen Rutherford,” Marie continued jauntily. It startled him from his thoughts, warmth spread over his cheeks, and he closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t know why she seemed intent on making those kinds of remarks, especially in front of her fiancé. The two had the strangest sort of relationship Cullen had ever seen. They both flirted wildly with anyone, but the two couldn’t be separated either.

“And this is Dorian,” Marie pulled her fiancé up to the two. Dorian swept off his cloak dramatically, bowing lavishly over Anya’s hand. Her eyes widened as she took in Dorian’s outfit. Dorian refused to dress in what he called, ‘Ferelden rags’, instead keeping to his customary Tevinter fashion. And from Anya’s gawking, Cullen knew that she had never seen the like before.

Alex was more polite, a pleasant enough smile pasted on his lips as his eyes took in Dorian’s half bared shoulder, the intricate metal work, expertly pattern cloth, and the curl of his mustache. 

“Enchanted to meet you. It is always a pleasure to become acquainted with people who are as attractive as myself,” Dorian’s accented voice was warm and amiable, almost purring. Alex went red, the color clashing with his hair, and Anya’s features slid even further into stunned, her eyes glazing if she were in a daze. After her last half an hour, it wouldn’t surprise Cullen if she were to descend into shock. Actually, he quickly amended, thinking of her reactions, he highly doubted she would.

Cullen shook his head, taking back control of the mess. “Marie, Dorian, enough.” They both looked at him, identical pouts on their lips. Cullen rolled his eyes; the two really spent too much time together. He instead started to assess what he saw around him.

The cottage was quite small, the room they were in the largest, a common and kitchen area. A tall table was shoved against one wall, an assortment of tools hanging from above it. A small chest sat on its surface, the wood almost completely covered in intricate designs. There were a few more beautifully worked pieces amidst the general chaos of the place; carved chests and chairs, worked boxes and bowls.

“You are carpenters?” Cullen asked in a distracted way. There were two additional rooms, their doors open to reveal tiny bedrooms. The kitchen sat in one side, another rough table and chairs a spot to eat and work. Cullen noted that although they were rough, the pieces were sturdy. What anyone with limited coin would want for their furniture.

“Yes,” Anya snapped from her daze, he chin jerking up in stubbornness as she glared at him. Did she expect him to disapprove? Then, surprisingly, she beamed up at her brother. Cullen blinked, slightly shocked that the spitfire could make such a pleased expression. “Actually, Alex is a master,” she gestured to the completed pieces, admittedly made with extreme skill. Her sibling again turned beat red; shy man, wasn’t he? Not used to attention apparently. “No one can rival his work. I’m more of a forester and supplier for him.”

“Really,” that caught Cullen’s interest. “Does that mean you know trails through this forest? Ones rarely used?”

Instantly the smile disappeared from her face, once again replaced with her signature look of angry suspicion. “Why?” When Cullen didn’t respond, she marched up to him, standing toe to toe, and glared. “What’s going on here? I want the truth. Now!”

She was quite tall, Cullen noted in the back of his mind. She barely had to tilt her head to look up at him. “I would like to offer you two a business opportunity.”

That was unexpected, taking away some of her fight. Cullen congratulating himself on getting one over on her. She took a moment, but came back with a curt, “What kind of business?”

Cullen nodded to where the two mages watched their conversation with undisguised interest. “My men and I were hired to get these two to Highever. However, there have been… complications.”

Anya looked over to Marie and Dorian, “And what kind of complications are those?”

Cullen hesitated before continuing. “They are being targeted.” This was only partly the truth; only Marie was the objective. “I need to find alternative methods to get them there safely. And I think you and your brother are the answer to our dilemma.” Anya frowned harder, looking back to him. “I would hire you to lead some of us through a forest route and your brother to act as a decoy with the rest of my men.”

Anya instantly started to shake her head. “No, no, no, no.” She glared contemptuously at him. “I’m not going to risk my brother’s life.”

Dorian chimed in, “Messere Alex here cuts a fine figure, however I think we can all agree that it is not a feminine one.” Alex went red for a third time, looking flustered.

Cullen agreed, the young man was tall and broad shouldered, his arms muscled and hands rough from work. “True. But they know Marie has been masquerading as a man, despite the fact she refuses to cut her hair.” Marie smiled brilliantly and blew him a kiss. Cullen ignored her. “None of the hired thugs have seen her before, so they have been told to look for a man with golden red hair and…” Cullen gestured to Alex.

“No!” Anya poked his chest, her expressive eyes once again shooting fire at him. “I already said we wouldn’t do it.”

“I will do it,” Alex cut through the air, quiet but confident. He met Cullen’s gaze, the same colored blue-green eyes as his sister, his calm and resilient. Anya may be the more dictatorial of the two, but stubbornness was a shared trait it seemed. He probably had to be, with a wildcat like his sister.

“Alex!” Anya spun to her brother, “You can’t do something so stupid!”

“Anya,” He grabbed her shoulders, dropping his voice, trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. But in the small confines of the cottage, every word was heard. “You know we can’t last the winter on what we have currently. And with Ostler’s market basically gone, we can hardly sell our regular pieces, let alone my more expensive work. We need to make more money. We can’t live without food.”

Anya’s shoulders tensed. “Well, I’ll just…” Anya searched around wildly, “I’ll just learn to hunt! Then we’ll survive without having to spend a thing.”

Cullen watched the gentle smile spread over Alex’s face, the amusement in his eyes. “You? Hunt? With what, a bow?”

Anya groaned lowly, unconsciously rubbing her forearm. Apparently there was a story there. For a long time the siblings stared at each other, a contest of wills raging between the two. Cullen was sure Anya was trying to make Alex change his mind, but Alex seemed set, unmoving. Would the younger brother win over his older sister?

“Ah!” Anya cried in triumph, spinning to Cullen and breaking her losing battle. “I can’t take you all the way to Highever! I’ve never traveled that far! I don’t know the way.” She crossed her arms over her chest smugly, obviously pleased with herself for finding a reasonable reason to prevent the plan from going through.

Slowly, though, the smile faded. “Oh fennec foxes and druffalo droppings,” she said softly and harshly. Cullen suppressed the smile that threatened at her inventive curse words. Anya sighed heavily. “But I can take you to someone who knows the way. There is a Dalish clan camped a few days from here. They owe me a favor; they could take you the final leg.”

Cullen blinked, surprised. She could have lied; he would never have known. For some reason, though, she had volunteered the information willingly. “Very well,” Cullen held out his hand, “You lead me to the Dalish clan and negotiate a guide, and Alex travels with my company. You will be paid generously for your risk,” Cullen knew the Teryn would not stint with his monetary gratitude. The man just wanted his last living grandchild, his heir, finally at his side.

Anya looked at his hand, visibly struggling with herself. With exasperation she finally grabbed his hand hard, shaking it choppily. “Oh very well.”

She dropped his hand like a hot coal and spun away, obviously displeased. Cullen let himself smile smugly at her stiff back. With any luck, this new scheme would prove to be the answer he had been looking for. And it didn’t hurt at all he had bested the prickly Anya to get it either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist ;)
> 
> Alex Art by Cocotingo! Check her out on [ tumblr! ](http://cocotingo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [](http://s25.photobucket.com/user/Cometeclipse/media/aa2e0d76-dace-40ae-a4ac-36850526b48e.jpg.html)  
> 

Anya stood with her arms crossed, just outside her cottage door. Her eyes were narrowed, teeth clenched, scowling at the infuriating man now giving orders to his ragtag group of mercenaries. He was comfortable being the leader, she saw, his bossing around coming to him naturally. And she supposed that what he was saying made sense. A few of them had ridden back to clean up the bodies they had cut down. Others were pulling packs from horses’ backs and placing them on the ground next to him. 

Cullen Rutherford. Ass.

After she had agreed to this insane plan, he had order her, Ordered Her!, to pack and get ready to go. Anya had been tempted to… well, she wasn’t quite sure what she would have done. Maybe start to sew something slowly, with really tiny stitches, and then rip them all out again because she was terrible at sewing. Just to spite him. Too bad she wasn’t positive where the patching supplies were; her brother knew. Alex was always so much better at fine details than she was. Besides, if something was ragged normally, she just made due with it until it became really bad. She’d then give it to Alex to repair or one of the women from the village, if they had coin.

Somehow, despite her need to rebel against The Ass, she had come to this point, standing and waiting with a newly packed bag at her feet. At least she had gotten her whittling knife back. 

The elfin woman with the red-gold hair and the peacock man were completely covered again and standing next to her still full cart, quietly talking to themselves. They seemed to be teasing each other and laughing quite a lot. Anya rolled her eyes at them; they were acting just like rowdy school children… granted a little creepy as they were completely covered and holding mage staffs. Neither seemed too terribly concerned with the fact that their lives were supposedly in danger. 

She looked back to their stalwart leader, commanding his army. Had he been telling her the truth? Her eyes looked over the assorted people filling the small clearing in front of her cottage. Bows, swords, shields, staffs, daggers; each male or female carried at least one set of weapons. They also all had a sort of air: a wary way they looked around themselves, as if they saw far more than the quiet forest and road she saw. Her eyes landed on the giant qunari again, noting the bulging muscles and his sharp, curling horns. She absolutely believed they were a mercenary group. Just… the rest of it, did she believe that?

Nug shit. She was so tempted to back out of this ‘deal’. She didn’t think she knew the whole story, didn’t know how much danger Alex was getting himself into. Their lives would be much safer here, at home, doing what they do.

Two things stopped her from yelling that it was off, though. The first was all about money. Ostler was a dying town. With no inn, people were not passing through, no merchants browsing their local market. With the burnt homes, diminished purchasing and fewer jobs people were moving on, selling what items they couldn’t bring with them. Like furniture. She and Alex couldn’t compete with the second hand prices of the desperate, couldn’t sell the beautiful craftsmanship of non-necessities. 

She and Alex were indifferent gardeners, just grew enough to help decrease their food expenditures during certain times of the year. But they didn’t have the capabilities to provide for themselves during the harsh times of late fall, winter, and early spring. Anya was an atrocious hunter, her ventures only earning her bruised forearms and lost arrows. Alex had never attempted it before; his hands were too valuable. So their only option was to buy food from the village… something impossible to do when they were making no money. 

The second reason she was agreeing to this ridiculous escapade was because of Alex. Anya knew she mothered him, probably too much for a man grown. She looked in the open door to where he was carefully wrapping his small, beautifully finished pieces, preparing them for transport. For as long as she could remember it had been her job to protect him. He was her little brother; no one would look out for him more than she would.

The couple that had taken them in had been nice enough, she supposed. She knew from other orphans in the Chantries they had bounced around to that there were plenty of horrible people they could have ended up with. The older couple hadn’t been cruel, per se, more indifferent. They needed more help with their carpentry business; she and Alex had needed shelter and food. A business arrangement more than a family, but for the most part things had worked out well.

When they were both old enough, they had struck out together and found this cottage, this village. Ostler had been a respectably good sized trading hub and no real furniture builder was around. Suitable for their needs, so they had stayed. 

But Alex, despite his baby face, was a man now. A bittersweet pang tugged at her when she saw how tall he was, how big he had gotten. He had been so resolute to do this, stubbornly sticking to his wish to go along with this crazy plan. Anya felt she had to agree, allow him this chance to spread his wings, she guessed. While she spent plenty of time out and socializing with the other villagers, Alex usually stayed at home, kept to himself. It worried her, sometimes. Now it was so opposite; he seemed awfully determined to be with strangers. 

“Anya, Alex!” She jerked around to see where Cullen Rutherford imperiously beckoned, shoulders squared, feet apart. He looked as if he considered himself King. What an Ass, Anya growled as she very slowly sauntered to his side. Alex passed her, giving her a quizzical look. She shrugged at his silent inquiry and kept to her slow pace.

Marie and Dorian were standing in the incomplete circle by the time she reached the group, amusement flashing from their darkened faces. Cullen, however, did not look amused. Something Anya took as a personal compliment. He didn’t waste time, though, instead turning immediately to the other two. 

“Dorian, you will accompany Alex in the decoy party while Marie will come with me.” His tone was firm, absolute. Dorian immediately protested.

“No, I’m going with Marie.” Dorian’s hands tightened on his staff, planting himself more firmly before the taller man. “I always stay with Marie.”

“Exactly,” Cullen nodded his blonde head, eyes sharp and calculating. “We are trying to create a deception here. If you are not with the person we are trying to pass off as Marie, none of the scouts will believe it is her. You are always with your fiancé, and for the time being that is Alex.” Cullen looked flustered for a moment, seeming to realize he had just made Alex and Dorian engaged. “Alex is pretending to be your fiancé… you know what I mean.”

Anya snorted and looked to her brother. Poor boy went bright red… again. She raised her eyebrow at the way he dropped his head and rubbed his hands against his thighs. Alex was becoming very flustered by quite a few things today. While not unusual for her shy brother, this was excessive.

But those two were fiancés? How interesting… Anya would never have guessed it. They seemed more like siblings than lovers… but she supposed it wasn’t her place. They were obviously of a higher class, and those types frequently had to deal with annoying troubles. Maybe their families had them betrothed? 

Dorian was silent, but it was obvious he was not happy. Marie bumped shoulders with him, “Guess that means I get to stare at Cullen’s ass without you.” Dorian chuckled slightly, but it was forced. Despite Marie’s banter, he still was unhappy and tense.

Anya eyebrows shot upwards when she looked back to Cullen’s face. Now he was blushing, eyes darting around, mouth opening to speak then closing. The man who seemed so in command looked like a bashful little Chantry boy right now. 

A curl of wicked delight unfurled in Anya’s chest, bringing a naughty smile to her lips. Was Cullen perhaps in love with his charge? Some sort of forbidden one-sided romance for the woman he was supposed to be protecting? Or the man? Or perhaps he was completely unused to being flirted with in any way? 

An imp grabbed her and spurred her on. Anya purred, “Lucky me, then. I guess that means I get to stare at your ass all I want.” 

His blush ran deeper, almost coming to the same red of Alex’s. Anya arched a brow in satisfaction at his startled look, her far-too amused smile curling her lip. Cullen cleared his throat, “Ah… well…” 

It really didn’t matter the reason he was so bashful when it came to these sort of matters, Anya was thrilled to have a trump card over The Ass. And truthfully, it wasn’t a bad nickname; he really did have a fantastic ass. Anya had noted it pretty quickly. Nice to know she had something to look forward to during her upcoming stressful days. 

Marie and Dorian laughed heartily, and even Alex’s shoulders shook in silent enjoyment. 

“Cullen,” one of his mercenaries, a woman with a bow, came up and placed another pack with the others. “All your things are now divided.”

Anya imagined Cullen could have kissed the woman, he was that relieved for the interruption to the conversation. He spun on his heel and strode off, pretending to be busy. Anya’s eyes dipped down to the leather cupping the aforementioned behind, appreciating the firm and round display. A smile hovered over her lips as she watched it move with each step, the rigid way he held his body. The man was uncomfortable, and she felt like she had finally gotten to him.

A deep, appreciative sigh came from one of the hooded pair, and Anya turned back to them. “So, fiancé huh?”

The two shared a look, one that was entertained. “Yes,” Dorian drawled, “Betrothed almost since birth… in a way.” 

Anya noted again the unlover-like way they were with each other, but the affection that was equally as obvious. She instantly thought of her and Alex, her currently silent brother. She looked up to him then, looked at the way he was frowning slightly at the couple. Was he confused by them too? Marie looked at Dorian the same way she looked at her brother. Affectionate, loving, but exasperated and protective. Poor guys, she thought silently. They probably didn’t want to get married, but felt they had to. 

“Well, looks like I will be spending quite a bit of time in your company Alex,” Dorian smoothly stepped closer to her brother, offering his hand. “Try not to get me killed.” 

Alex stared down at the proffered hand and at the handsome face just a little bit below his own. Slowly he clasped it and shook, nodding his head. “I will do my best.” 

Dorian clapped a hand against Alex’s bicep, squeezing slightly. “Big man like you? I’m sure you will cover me perfectly.” 

Cullen came back up just then, fully composed once more. Anya almost pouted; it was like their bantering had never happened. 

She missed entirely the way Alex’s hand drifted up to where Dorian had squeezed his arm and linger over the spot.

“Right, Marie and Anya, pack your things onto your horse.” Three of the creatures were pulled forward, all ready to go. 

An instant wave of panic set onto Anya. Her? Ride? Oh, fade fuck it, no. “Ah,” She cleared her throat, “Why are we riding?”

Cullen frowned at her, his amber eyes sharp. “Because we are.”

Anya snorted. Men. The because-I-say-so route never worked for her before, and it wasn’t working for her now. “That is stupid.” Cullen frowned fiercely and opened his mouth. Probably to bark out more commander’s orders again. She rushed in to say her piece. “Look, if anyone is paying attention, they are going to see that a crap ton of horses came here. If they are smart, they will find out that a man and a woman live here, that we have a donkey.” She gestured to where Lulubelle indolently munched on the dying grass. “If you want to be smart about this, then you and I will walk, and Marie can sit on Lulubelle’s back until we get further out. It will look like my brother and I left one way. The rider-less horses go with the group, that way the same number goes out that came in the other way. No strange splitting or shuffling.” 

Cullen frowned thoughtfully, weighing what she had said. Anya was a little surprised, she grudgingly admitted, that a man so used to having his way would even consider what she came up with. 

Thoughtfully, Cullen mulled out, “I don’t like it. We will be too slow on foot. Better that we each have our own horse; much faster that way.”

“Ah,” Anya countered, “But if they don’t follow us in the first place, then there isn’t a need to go very quickly. Besides, the routes I know will be difficult for a horse to go fast on anyways. Once we get to the Dalish, I am sure there will be a quicker way.” Maybe. The Dalish clan had mounts of their own, but Anya didn’t know if they would ever share such animals. “Besides, our route will be shorter than the others.” She thought. Okay, so maybe she was stretching the truth a little… she just really didn’t want to ride.

Cullen thought for a while longer before nodding decisively. “Very well. It is time to go.”

Then all of the sudden, Anya was left alone with Alex. To say goodbye. 

A lump caught in her throat, and she stared at the front of his jerkin, at the sharp, rambling lines of their carpenter’s insignia stitched into the leather and his long red-gold braid. “So…” She licked her lips and stalled.

Alex’s great big arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her in for a bone crushing hug. Anya latched onto her brother’s waist, feeling tears threaten to build. She absorbed the familiar scent of wood shavings, the special wooden stain, the soap they used. They had been apart before of course, her half of the job requiring days away to gather materials. But this was different. They were looking at perhaps weeks apart from each other… and the added danger was adding needles to her worry.

“Be safe,” She ordered, her words muffled. Alex nodded. “And don’t do anything stupid.” Alex nodded again. “And don’t let that peacock dress you up like him.”

Alex’s laugh rumbled through him, and he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I will miss you Anya. But it will all work out. I am sure of it.”

Her lips pressed together, she nodded for his benefit, but she wasn’t as sure as her brother. It was her job to protect him, but here he was, going beyond her reach. It was wrong, yet she knew it was time to let him be his own man. “Love you.” She whispered gruffly.

“Love you too.” A man with a cloak approached them, obviously impatient to depart. Alex grabbed it and fitted it over his shoulders. “See you in Highever,” Alex smiled, lifting the cowl into place. 

Far too quickly, Alex was clumsily up on a horse, Dorian at his side and surrounded by the hoard of mercenaries. Anya suddenly felt like there weren’t enough of them between her brother and the danger following them. 

With one last backwards glance to the three figures standing before the cottage, Alex was led down the road. Anya watched for as long as she could, vision wavy from pesky water shimmering in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Anya gulped back the stupid tears that were hovering in her eyes. The sooner she got the troublesome two behind her to the elves, the sooner they could be in Highever, and the sooner she and Alex could put this all behind them and get back to their normal, boring lives.

She was resigned to the situation but it didn’t mean she wasn’t royal pissed off that the mercenary band had pushed themselves into their lives. Her worry twisted in her gut and fed her anger, a hot spark that sat heavy in her stomach. Never mind that this opportunity might be the only thing saving them from starvation this upcoming winter, it still wasn’t what she wanted.

She spun on her heel and looked at the small huddle. Lulubelle had been completely covered; she had a saddle on her back, something the donkey was not accustomed to. Anya could tell that she was nervous because she was only half-heartedly chewing on the grass at her feet instead of completely lazily. Lulubelle made indolence an art form; relying on her for speed was going to make for an interesting journey. Bedrolls and saddlebags had been strapped over her frame, and a harness put over her head. Anya wondered if they had tried to put in a proper bit and discovered the power of Lulubelle’s bite. Someone would have to lead her and she suspected that she was going to end up doing that most of the time.

The fire snapped in her chest again, and she stomped over to her bag and swung it up on her shoulder. “Come on then.” Her tone was curt, more than a little heated. Cullen just shot her a dismissive glance as he talked quietly with Marie, his hands tugging at the hood to put the elfin face beneath it more in shadow. So concerned for his charge; how sweet… while she hadn’t even been allowed a proper goodbye with her brother. All the fun she had had tormenting him just a few minutes ago now burned to ash. 

Her chest felt hollow as she ignored them and turned towards the small trail leading around her cottage and into the forest. It was more of a footpath than a true trail, something that she and Lulubelle had carved out with trips over the years. Despite the stupidity of the plan, it might have just a little bit of merit. With this path, there was a small chance that they might escape prying eyes. From the front of the cottage, it was just a small worn indent in the grass to the back of the house, and if you did follow it, then it was just an overgrown walkway into the woods. Nothing remarkable.

She heard voices from an argumentative Marie and Cullen for a few minutes before they finally followed her. She stopped on the border of the forest and crossed her arms, waiting for the two. Eye-catching Cullen was pulling on Lulubelle’s reins, the stubborn animal refusing to go faster than a plodding pace, her neck stretched out as far as possible. Marie’s face was now well hidden, her cloak draped all around her so that she was a mysterious figure. 

Anya’s lips pulled to the side. They really needed to get into the woods. Anyone seeing those two would remember them, and their chances of remaining secret would drop to zero. Grudgingly, she allowed that it really was impossible to tell the gender of the person beneath the cloak, and that Alex had looked remarkably similar when on his horse’s back. 

It took too long for Cullen to get far. Anya sighed and walked back to the muttering Cullen, knocking his hand away from the reins and taking his place. “You don’t know anything about females, do you? You have to compliment them.” Anya scratched behind Lulubelle’s ears, her voice going friendly and softer. “Don’t you, my lazy bones? Don’t you need a sweet word or two?”

Lulubelle’s dark brown eyes drooped at the attention, her body relaxing and legs becoming much more limber. When Anya started to walk backwards, the donkey followed easily, allowing her steps to swing to their length.

Anya turned and smirked at Cullen, raising an eyebrow as they passed at a much faster rate that he had managed. He scowled, his arms crossed over his chest. His ire was obviously reserved in equal portions for her and Lulubelle, but Anya couldn’t help the little bubble of glee that rose in her stomach. She had won that point with flair. Okay, so he was still an Ass, but teasing him was going to bring bright spots to her days.

She led their little group into the forest, every now and then cooing nonsense to Lulubelle when she slowed. They were not moving truly quickly; if it had just been Anya, she would have made much faster time. It was just a fact of nature that her donkey was not a racehorse, and with added weight of the unspeaking Marie, she was just not able to go at a fast clip.

After a long while of almost silent walking, Marie spoke up. “I’m hungry. Are we not going to stop for lunch or something?”

Anya looked over her shoulder as she walked, one brow raised in skepticism. Stop for lunch? How wasteful. They had a long ways to go, and if they stopped all the time it would take too long to get to the Dalish clan. “Have some jerky if you want.” And then she turned back, thinking that would be the end of it.

But Marie was not done. “I want to walk; this donkey’s gait is so jolting. I am sore and tired.” Her voice was tinged with a whine, just enough that it confirmed what she had suspected. Only people with a lot of wealth could complain in that imperious way… and if that was a sweeping judgement, Anya didn’t care. She wasn’t exactly in charity with either of those two, and Andraste herself wouldn’t make her change her mind. 

Anya just shrugged in answer. She didn’t care if the aristocratic Marie walked or rode. Perhaps they would be faster if she walked anyhow.

Cullen, however, protested. “We are not far enough away yet. If someone follows our path, they would see the change in tracks too quickly.”

“If they were going to follow us this far, surely they would follow until they found us and confirmed,” Marie countered.

Anya tried to ignore the ripple of unease that made its way down her spine at Marie’s words. If someone did start down this path, would they eventually give up and turn around? Or would they just… follow their small group until they caught up with them? Where the people hunting for Marie and Dorian that motivated?

Anya continued to pull along the group as the two fought, trying to tune out the noise and pushed aside her worry. It was a bit difficult to ignore them; though their voices were not loud, neither was anything else in the forest. They should just have a whisper fight and leave her out of it entirely. Her solitary trips were much better than this; bickering was never something she could stand. She and Alex rarely fought, but that was probably more due to her brother’s calm nature than to her own ability to make compromises. She knew she could be… difficult. 

“Anya could switch places with me! That way there would still be only two sets of footprints!” Marie’s voice suddenly pushed her back into the fray.

“Oh, no! No, I am fine walking,” She hastily objected, stumbling with surprise as she turned. She gestured wildly to Cullen. “If you want to walk, make him ride!”

Marie snorted, “I don’t think your old donkey here would be able to bear his weight.”

Cullen shook his head as well. “Besides, if anyone follows us, they would certainly notice if a man’s footprints suddenly changed to a woman’s.”

Marie swung her leg over and slid off of Lulubelle’s back, groaning as her feet hit the ground, and effectively made the decision for the group. “Oh Maker, I’m going to be so sore.” Her hood had slid back, and Anya could see the pout on her pretty face. Definitely aristocratic… but then Marie rubbed her hands up and down her ass, and she seemed much more real. “Dang donkey,” she muttered, throwing Lulubelle an evil glance at the animal. Lulubelle blinked placidly, completely unfazed. 

“Alright Anya, it is your turn.” Cullen strode forward, and grabbed at the reins. “You go up and I will lead Lulubelle. Marie will walk in front.”

Anya felt panic rise up, and she refused to budge. Her gaze clashed with Cullen’s, blue-green to amber just inches apart as they wordlessly fought over control of the reins. She resented the fact that he was taller than her, although only by a little bit. She drew herself up to her full height, her chin jerking up to try to make up for the lack. Cullen just continued to stare from his already perfect military bearing, expression calm and collected as if he already knew the outcome of their struggle.

Frustration overtook her panic, mixed with some of her customary anger as well. “Fine,” she snapped and shot her hand away. “I will ride. Just for a little while.” She hastily added her qualifier. 

Cullen’s look of determination melted into a smug grin. The satisfaction sat far too well on the planes of his face, his lips curved sensually. “Ass,” she muttered as she spun away and went to Lulubelle’s side.

She hesitated before she tried to get up into the saddle. How did she do this? Her right foot there? Where did she hold on? Did she need to jump, or just sort of climb?

Suddenly, hands were wrapped around her waist, large and strong. With seemingly no effort, Cullen tossed her into the saddle, confident and in charge. Anya gasped as she flew smoothly through the air. Out of instinct, her legs parted and she settled easily across Lulubelle’s back. She grabbed wildly at her donkey’s coarse mane, holding on tightly to keep herself in place.

She gaped down at Cullen, shocked. The impact of his hands burned at her waist still, powerfully imprinted. A curl of heat snaked through her core; she really appreciated physical men. And her body’s response to the act reminded her just how long it had been since she had really been able to show anyone her… appreciation. 

But his smug look banished her flare of arousal. She didn’t, however, enjoy men who thought they were always right. She forced an unimpressed frown to take over her expression and she looked away as bored. 

Cullen chuckled lowly, a deep rumble that she almost couldn’t hear. He stamped around in the vegetation at their feet, obscuring the tracks that had been left before he took up Lulubelle’s reins and started forward.

Damn it, she soundlessly growled. The Ass knew he had just won that round.

***

Anya was miserable.

Her legs ached from just how wide she had to sit, Lulubelle like a barrel. Anya didn’t think she had ever realized just how fat the donkey had become; she was definitely spoiled and Anya would cut back on the amount of oats she was feeding her.

And she also knew why Marie had barely spoken while riding, although she was now quite happy to talk with almost no cessation. It was almost impossible say anything with Lulubelle’s jolting gait making your voice jump. If this was how jarring her walk was, Anya was genuinely terrified of a faster pace. Her body ached from trying to resist the side to side jerks; her arms ached from her life-hold on Lulubelle’s mane. There were bones that she was sitting on that were screaming in protest, and before today Anya hadn’t even known they were there. Why would anyone do this to themselves?

But she refused to verbally complain. She wasn’t going to give Cullen the satisfaction. When it was finally time to stop, she was going to get down blithely and act as if she weren’t one giant bruise. He would have no idea that she was uncomfortable. And they would be done any time now. Really.

She had been stuck on Lulubelle’s back for years now. The sky was darkening quickly, the nights creeping in earlier and earlier as winter approached. Anya had only spoken up when there had been splits in the trail and she directed Marie the correct way, heading towards the Dalish clan in the most direct route she knew. But they wouldn’t make contact with them today, no matter how late into the night they pushed. They would need to stop.

It was a lifetime later when Cullen finally spoke up. In the last blue of twilight, he motioned to a small clearing to one side of the path. “There, we will camp here for the night.”

Anya didn’t let herself sigh in relief, but it was a near thing. Marie did it for her. “Bless the Maker. I have blisters from all this walking. And jerky does not satisfy, no matter how much you have. I’m starved.”

Anya was too, but it was not her main focus. She was more tired than she could ever remember being. She just wanted to curl up and sleep. 

Cullen pulled Lulubelle off the path and dropped the reins. The donkey instantly dropped her head to the sparse greenery and started to graze, ignoring the crazy humans that had dragged her away from her eating. And Anya… couldn’t move. She shifted to make her way down, but her leg refused to come up and over the saddle, to easily swing down like she had seen people do. 

She awkwardly leaned all the way forward until she was resting on her stomach, clenching her teeth as everything protested. With a huge surge of strength, she was able to drag her left leg up over Lulubelle’s butt. Then suddenly she was free, falling from the saddle. She landed on her feet with a jarring rattle of her bones and a stumble, just barely stifled her groan. 

Pleased that she hadn’t fallen on her face, she turned and ran straight into Cullen’s amused gaze. He raked his gaze up her stiffly held body, a smile playing over his lips. “You got off on the wrong side.” 

Damn. A real rider would have known that. Anya’s teeth almost shattered resisting the growl that rose at that extremely well-placed and sharp barb. “Ass,” she spit from between clenched teeth. She grabbed her bedroll and tottered over to an almost flat spot. With minimalistic movements she spread out her bedroll, dropped her pack and curled in her blanket. Within seconds she was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another update! And we get to hear from Alex this time!

Alex’s hands hurt from how tightly he gripped the pommel of his saddle. His legs hurt, his back hurt, even his jaw hurt from clenching his teeth together so they wouldn’t clack against each other as he bounced along. Their ride was marked with bursts of speed in between walking, trying to outdistance themselves from those who hunted them. But Alex thought that they were taking it slower than they would have been, due to him and his abysmal riding.

He was thoroughly embarrassed. After insisting on taking the mercenary companies deal, he was just making a fool of himself. He tried to act like he knew what he was doing, but when they were going faster than a walk he could only hold onto the saddle for dear life and hunch over. Anyone who saw them would know instantly that he was no expert rider, and that he was entirely unladylike. He wished now that he had never accepted this deal.

Dorian, riding close beside him, had leaned over early on and imparted his wisdom to Alex. “Riding horseback is no different than sex; you have to move in rhythm. Relax, and let yourself feel the movement.” Alex had felt himself color, his face burning immediately at the suggestive tone from the handsome man.

Alex brushed back a strand of hair loosened by the hood of the cloak from his braid. Recalling the brief conversation, he returned his grip to the pommel and shifted slightly to look at the mage. Dorian’s staff was strapped across his back, his body shrouded by the heavy cloak. Alex supposed he looked remarkably similar, a fake staff also in place, another part of his disguise as Marie. Andraste guide them, but this would never work. How were people supposed to believe that he was a woman when he was bigger and broader than her fiancé?

As per instructions, though, he kept his braid over his shoulder. Occasionally the light would catch on the red-gold, sparkling before being hidden once more. It was subtle, and yet not, all according to the plan. He was to be the diversion after all; to be completely invisible would not help Alex receive the money he and his sister needed.

The true test would be coming up though; it was growing dark. Which meant it was time to find an inn. He swallowed hard, feeling the butterflies flit a path around his stomach and up his throat. It was a good thing he wouldn’t have to speak; he feared if he opened his mouth only those butterflies would escape. He was not one for talking; Anya always handled that.

In fact, Anya handled a lot of things. Maker forgive him, but he wanted more from life than what his days had been filled with before. Mostly solitary, spending all his hours on pouring his heart into art that he would never see again when sold. Rarely traveling into the market to barter for goods, or doing anything fun. Sometimes he would slip away from home while Anya was out on her collecting trips, discovering things on his own. He loved Anya, but she was just so protective of him. She always had been, and for a long time he had been grateful for her care. Now though… now he was ready to become his own person.

He had known their situation was dire, had forced him to look at the practicalities of everything. And it had been bleak. This opportunity, this chance at earning such a huge sum with a few days of work, while dangerous, was worth it. And it was something he had chosen all on his own. Anya certainly hadn’t wanted to do it.

“Up ahead.” The low voice jerked Alex from his thoughts, brought his head up to see lights shining in the darkness. They were approaching people once more. An audience for his deceit.

Alex felt the flutter increase, a slight panic sinking in. How was he supposed to behave again? Pretend to be a woman pretending to be a man? Should he slouch and try to make himself smaller; even if he tried he was never going to look as petite as Maria was. Or maybe he should throw his shoulders back and adept a boastful swagger; that would certainly be manlier and attract attention. His hands tightened even further around the horn, the leather letting out a squeak of protest.

They casually entered the yard, the mercenary band already dismounting and bustling around, acting like a band of normal travelers. Conversation and laughter rang over his head, and Alex tried not to stick out like a sore thumb. Inelegantly he shifted his body, biting back his groan as he slowly slid down the horse he had been riding. The animal tossed his head, already angry at the clumsy man he had carried, but stayed still. Alex’s feet hit the ground, and he almost crumpled as pins started to race across his feet.

Then Dorian was there, his hands all over Alex. For a moment he didn’t understand, a flush rising in his cheeks and swirling through his body. He couldn’t feel the pains in his legs anymore, couldn’t feel his lungs either. He gulped, blinking down at the elegant lines of Dorian’s face twisted in concentration. His dark brows were down, mouth twisted slightly as he twitched the cloak more fully over Alex’s clothes and the hood so that his face was concealed further.

Dorian’s hand lifted to Alex’s braid, his speed stilling for a moment. The concentrated look faded for a moment, and his fingers danced along the strands, a caress that was so fleeting Alex wasn’t sure it had taken place at all. The moment was gone so quickly, Dorian once again fast and detached as he arranged Alex’s hair so that only a small glimpse of it would be visible from certain angles.

“We will wait here,” Dorian told him in undertones, and Alex nodded mutely, knowing he was staring. Dorian caught his eyes, the grey flaring slightly before a smirk curled up one side of his immaculate mustache. With a wink, Dorian pulled his own hood further over his head, hiding his face completely. The bustle around them hid their silence, a couple linking arms and strolling inside. Several removed the bags that had been on the horses, then led the horses away to the stables. All of it whirled around their stillness, waiting for a signal Alex did not know.

Then it was there, the woman who had gone inside motioning to them before ducking back inside the door. Dorian stepped around Alex, pulling the staff off of his back, “This is it, my fine friend. Take this up with you,” Alex accepted the staff and gripped it awkwardly, “Marie has not been without a weapon since landing in this damp country.” A hand reached up to Alex’s shoulder, spinning him towards the door. “Walk naturally,” the calm, cultured voice sunk through the nerves Alex could feel rising, giving him something to anchor onto. He sucked in a breath, focusing on the mage’s instructions and subtle guidance. “We are just going to walk to our rooms, and then you will be safely hidden from prying eyes.” A crack of that amusement crept into Dorian’s voice. “Then we can cast these cloaks off for the entirety of the night, thank the Maker.”

Alex nodded, his gulp audible enough that Dorian chuckled slightly. “Don’t worry, it will be easy.” He turned and led the way. Alex shaking slightly as he followed.

And it _was_ easy. They entered the inn to the sound of unconcerned chatter, Dorian heading straight for the set of stairs leading up to rooms on the second level. Alex tried to keep the tension from broadening his shoulders more. But there was no shrieking cry of assassins running from the shadows. No tingle as magic filled the room to hurl a fireball at him. The quiet talk wasn’t even disrupted as the small group headed up the stairs. Within seconds Alex was standing inside a room, and that was the end of his acting.

It took him long moments to process that he was safely ensconced away, that there was no need to worry for the moment. He knew from conversations overheard that the mercenary band would be watching over the second floor and outside as well. He was relieved of his duties and there was no way he would be ambushed while he was so heavily watched.

The tension of the day drained from him, and he stumbled over to the ragged but comfortable chair set before the fireplace, the hearth filled with a cheery fire. A slight shaking spread down his spine and through to his hands, and he concentrated on breathing, holding his fingers out to warm the chill that had settled in his bones. He wished he could blame it on the fall temperatures, but knew it had far more to do with the edge of fear he had been riding all day.

He sat for long minutes staring at the flames and slowly the shakes drained away, leaving only an aching tiredness behind. He sighed heavily and stood, unclasping the cloak and slinging it over the back of the chair. His hair was all mussed from being constantly under the hood, so he took of the tie and finger combed the strands out, absently going about the familiar task. He was rather hungry.

A knock emanated from the wall, and Alex turned to see a door he had not noticed previously. Not a second later it opened, and Dorian strolled in, curious eyes taking in the room before he gracefully collapsed across the bed. “It is so… rustic and quaint, don’t you think?”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that. He looked around the room; it was bigger than his back at home. In fact it was almost half the size of their main room. The fireplace was large enough to warm the whole room and did not smoke. The bed, while not large, was big enough that he would be comfortable in it. There were luxuries represented in the chair, a small table, and another with a wash basin atop it. To him, the room seemed extravagant. And he knew that made him just as rustic and quaint as Dorian proclaimed the inn.

He felt himself flush, a hollow sensation opening in his chest. He self-consciously crossed his arms, tucking his scarred and rough hands out of sight. Maker, he had been deluding himself, hadn’t he?

He knew what Dorian was, how he preferred the company of men, the same as Alex. Coming from small and conservative villages, Alex had had to figure out quickly who was gay, and those who accepted that aspect of themselves. When he had been younger he had been beaten up too many times by those who weren’t accepting of their own natures. He had thought… those looks that Dorian had given him, he had thought they were looks of admiration, of attraction. Obviously that was wishful thinking.

Dorian was the most beautiful person Alex had ever seen. For the shape of his lips, to the strength of his jaw, to the little beauty mark high on his cheekbone, there had never been anyone like Dorian in Alex’s life. Even his mustache, which he had seen other men try to pull off and had just looked silly, somehow Dorian made it appear seductive and fashionable.

Alex dropped his gaze from the mage, staring at his scuffed and stained boots. Yes. He had been a fool to even think someone like Dorian would find him attractive.

The silence in the room grew, and Alex knew he was supposed to say something, but his mind was blank. He was never any good with social things. So he kept quiet.

Dorian pushed himself up on the bed, his head tilted to the side as he gazed at Alex. “Not a social thing, aren’t you?” Alex shrugged at the same time there was a coded knock on the outer door. Thank the Maker.

Dorian stood and answered it, revealing the Qunari bearing a tray covered in dishes. The smell rising from them sent Alex’s mouth to watering, and he quickly brought the table over for Adaar to set it down. The men wasted no time in dishing out the food, Dorian and Adaar discussing the plan.

“Our presence is noted, but I don’t think we will be fending off any attacks tonight.” Adaar dug into his chicken with relish, obviously as famished as Alex was. “No one left to alert. If we keep going this route, we are going to need more horses, though. We can only refresh a few here; it’s too small.”

Dorian’s table manners were impeccable. He frowned, lips pulling into a distracted moue, “We don’t want to go much faster; Cullen and Marie need us to be obvious. We should be fine with the horses we have if we keep to the pace we set today.”

Alex’s spirits sank further. So they had been taking it easy.

“We should continue onto Crisidon and then take the Forest Highroad from there,” Dorian supplied, and Adaar nodded his agreement.

Alex swallowed before interjecting, “I wouldn’t go through Crisidon, not tomorrow.”

Dorian turned to him with a raised eyebrow, a slight surprise in his eyes. “So he speaks!” Alex brushed back his fall of hair and stared at the food on his plate, missing the way Dorian watched the silky strands spark like embers as they moved in the firelight. “What was that, Master Carpenter?”

“Well, Crisidon is having its market tomorrow. It’s a big town… aren’t such crowds something you would avoid?” Alex remembered what that Cullen Rutherford had said. To keep things the same.

Adaar and Dorian looked at each other before the qunari nodded. “Yes, we would avoid it normally. Very well, we will go through Lefton. A simple enough change, but I will be glad to not have to be on guard during a market day.” He smiled affably at Alex, a huge hand coming to clap him on the shoulder. “Good thinking there lad. Maybe we will put a sword in your hand and make a mercenary out of you yet!”

Alex ducked his head in embarrassment, but he couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread over his lips. Maybe it was a good thing he had come after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat with me another way? [Check it out on Tumblr! ](https://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/post/141838797325/across-my-memory)


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